Part 23 (1/2)

Captain Fazackerly hesitated a moment, and then, feeling that he was safe in the hands of the master of a foreign-going barque, followed him into the bar, and from behind his back glared defiantly at his fair foe.

”Two gla.s.ses o' gin, my dear,” said Captain Tweedie with the slightest possible emphasis.

The girl, who knew her customer, served him without a murmur, deftly avoiding the gaze of ungenerous triumph with which the injured captain favoured her as he raised the cooling beverage to his lips. The gla.s.s emptied, he placed it on the counter and sighed despondently.

”There's something up with you, Zacky,” said Tweedie, eyeing him closely as he bit the end off a cigar; ”you've got something on your mind.”

”I've been crool hurt,” said his friend in a hard, cold voice. ”My word ain't good enough for the new guv'nor; he wants what he calls a disburs.e.m.e.nt sheet.”

”Well, give him one,” said Tweedie. ”You know what it is, don't you?”

Captain Fazackerly shook his head, and pus.h.i.+ng the gla.s.ses along the counter nodded for them to be refilled.

”You come aboard with me,” said Tweedie after they had emptied them.

Captain Fazackerly, who had a doglike faith in his friend, followed him into the street and on to his barque. In a general way he experienced a social rise when he entered the commodious cabin of that n.o.ble craft, and his face grew in importance as his host, after motioning him to a seat, placed a select array of writing materials before him.

”I s'pose I've got to do it,” he said slowly.

”Of course you have,” said Tweedie, rolling his cigar between his thin lips; ”you've got orders to do so, haven't you? We must all obey those above us. What would you do if one of your men refused to obey an order of yours?”

”Hit him in the face,” said Captain Fazackerly with simple directness.

”Just so,” said Tweedie, who was always ready to impart moral teaching.

”And when your governor asks for a disburs.e.m.e.nt sheet you've got to give him one. Now, then, head that paper--Voyage of the _Sarah Ann_, 180 tons register, Garston Docks to Limerick.”

The captain squared his elbows, and, for a few seconds, nothing was heard but his stertorous breathing and the scratching of the pen; then a muttered execration, and Captain Fazackerly put down his pen with a woe-begone air.

”What's the matter?” said Tweedie.

”I've spelt register without the 'd.'” said the other; ”that's what comes o' being worried.”

”It don't matter,” said Tweedie hastily. ”Now what about stores? Wait a bit though; of course ye repaired your side-lamps before starting?”

”Lor', no!” said Captain Fazackerly, staring; ”what for? They were all right.”

”Ye lie,” said Tweedie sternly, ”you did! To repairs to side-lamps, ten s.h.i.+llings. Now then, did you paint her this trip?”

”I did,” said the other, looking at the last entry in a fascinated fas.h.i.+on.

”Let's see,” said Tweedie meditatively--”we'll say five gallons of black varnish at one s.h.i.+lling and threepence a gallon----”

”No, no,” said the scribe; ”I used gas tar at threepence a gallon.”

”Five gallons black varnish, one s.h.i.+lling and threepence a gallon, six-and-threepence,” said Tweedie, raising his voice a little; ”have you got that down?”

After a prolonged struggle with his feelings the other said he had.

”Twenty-eight pounds black paint at twopence a pound,” continued Tweedie.

”Nay, nay,” said the skipper; ”I allus saves the soot out of the galley for that.”